Kirby
Dick’s unflinching documentary about performance artist
and BDSM practitioner Bob Flanagan finally makes it to UK DVD
uncut, fifteen years after its initial release. The allowing of
scenes that the BBFC previously claimed ‘would be highly
dangerous if copied’ is very welcome, though it shows the
hypocrisy of the censors (and the accompanying booklet reveals
the extent of their anti-BDSM attitudes that still remain) –
of which more later.
Dick’s film follows Flanagan through the last couple of
years of his life, as the cystic fibrosis that was supposed to
have killed him in his childhood finally wears him down in his
early Forties. The film mixes interviews with Flanagan (who rapidly
deteriorates before our eyes), his dominatrix partner Sheree Rose
and friends and family members alongside footage of his performances,
new and old, and results in a portrayal of someone who sought
to deal with his constant pain by taking control of it –
fighting back against his malfunctioning body by submitting it
to damage and pain that he was in control of.
Flanagan is, by turn, witty, charming, angry, painful and tragic
as the film leads up to his death – his final moments and
the aftermath captured by Dick and Rose. It’s a bleak, heartbreaking
(if inevitable) ending – certainly one of the most devastating
moments you’ll ever see on film. Yet there is a lot of humour
along the way, with Flanagan’s performances often making
light of his condition while presenting challenging visuals.
And yes, there is no soft-peddling here. One of the scenes finally
appearing in this cut shows Flanagan nailing his penis to a board
and then pulling the nail loose, unleashing a gushing of blood.
It comes towards the end, and if you’ve made it this far,
it probably won’t be too horrific to view – more delicate
viewers will have no doubt given up during the SM performances
and body modification rituals seen earlier.Dick’s
film takes an admirably open-minded approach to BDSM, an activity
that Flanagan openly states has helped keep him alive (the film
itself makes no claim one way or another). There’s no sense
that this is the domain of sexual deviants, freaks and risk-taking
weirdoes, but rather a valid lifestyle choice engaged in by very
normal, very likeable people. It’s in direct contrast to
British government attitudes (note that without the BBFC certificate,
or owned in isolation from the film as a whole, certain scenes
in Sick would almost certainly be subject to
prosecution under the ‘extreme porn’ laws) and, sadly,
in contrast to the booklet notes from BBFC examiner Murray Perkins,
who examines the British censorship history of the film. To quote
him:

“It was also understood that vulnerable viewers and
those who were predisposed to engage in sadomasochistic behaviour
may be more likely to try out some of the activities which Flanagan
engages in”.

That’s right, kink fans, you are all too feeble minded to
watch this sort of thing without immediately rushing out to grab
a rusty nail and hammer your cock into the coffee table. Thus
were nearly four minutes cut, until 2009 when it was decided that,
although you sickos out there might still be inspired to copy
such depraved acts, the film as a whole was “not a celebration
of sadomasochism” and the context made it safe for ‘the
average viewer’. Such condescension and an unwillingness
to admit to ever having been wrong is fairly standard BBFC procedure.
This essential documentary comes with extensive extras –
a 15-minute follow-up piece with Sara, a fellow CF sufferer who
we meet in Sick, extensive deleted scenes, live
performance footage, an audio commentary and the film soundtrack
amongst them. It’s a great package for a fascinating study
of one of the 20th century’s most intriguing body artist.